Dreams, Talks, and New Beginnings
by GoDale13
Summary: Spoilers for Season 7 "Jet Lag" Can't really say much besides that.


_Here is the fic that I have been working on in regards to Jet Lag. It probably is not the best, but I hope you enjoy_. _I wrote this as part of a competition over on TivaTalk, and figured I would post it on here as well._

_I do not own anything to do with NCIS besides the season DVDs._

Ziva turned from the hotel's front desk and Tony could see death in her eyes. "Something tells me I'm not going to like what you're about to say," Tony groaned. His day had not been going all that well: first he had managed to remind the woman at customs of an ex-boyfriend, then the gods above decided to send a flood to the streets of Paris.

"McGee reserved only one room," she growled.

Half of him knew that this was part of some evil scheme that McGee, and probably Abby, had devised. "At least tell me there are two beds," he sighed, and knew the answer almost immediately. "He's dead," Tony promised.

In the Hotel Room

Tony wondered around the room looking for something to occupy his mind. He could hear the water running in the bathroom, and his mind kept drifting to a picture of Ziva standing under it. Shaking his head to erase the image once again, Tony decided to turn the television on. Stretching out on the couch, Tony began flipping through the channels.

That was where Ziva found him ten minutes later when she walked into the room. He was lying on the couch asleep with a French-dubbed _Magnum, P.I._ playing on the television. Ziva smiled to herself at the scene in front of her. In all the times she'd been to Paris, not once had she managed to find Magnum on. Only Tony would, she thought to herself with a little chuckle.

"Do you always stand in the middle of the room talking to yourself?" Tony asked startling Ziva.

"Do you always eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" Ziva retorted, smiling at Tony.

"Touché," Tony replied, stretching his arms. As he did so, his stomach let out a grumble that Ziva could hear from across the room. "What do you say we go find something to eat," Tony suggested, turning off the tv and standing up. "Where's a good non-touristy place?" he asked, knowing Ziva had been in Paris many times before.

At the Restaurant

As the two sat across from one another waiting for their dinner, it dawned on Ziva how intimate the environment was. The waiter had placed them at a secluded table by the window which looked out over Paris and towards the Eifel Tower. On the table between the two sat two lit candles which made Tony's eyes twinkle, she noticed.

Tony felt the air around the two change. He was acutely aware of the soft, romantic music being played, of the tables full of couples holding hands and smiling at one another, and of how the lighting in the restaurant made Ziva seem relaxed and beautiful.

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair at that last realization, Tony turned his mind to something else. "When do we go to the embassy to pick up the witness?" he asked.

Ziva knew Tony had their entire schedule memorized, but decided to ignore it. "We are to meet her at 10. If you make us late, I will make you pay," she warned, half-jokingly.

"Don't worry, Probie. With your crazy driving, it won't take us long at all," he teased, earning a glare from Ziva. 'Even her icy death glares are beautiful in this light,' he thought to himself. Looking out the window, Tony found himself saying wondering out loud, "Wonder if Gibbs and Jenny ever came here?"

"I do not think they had the time, Tony," Ziva said, yet her mind wandered back to her first time to this restaurant. She was on a joint-op with Mossad and NCIS. Ziva and Jenny Shepard's mission had led them throughout Europe and landed them in Paris for a couple weeks down time. Jenny had told Ziva about this restaurant being one of her favorites, but had never said why that was. She and Gibbs must have gone here when they were in Paris together.

"Oh I think they had plenty of time," Tony said, smirking. "They just chose to order room service." Ziva just shook her head as the waiter came with their food.

After paying for their food, the two decided to walk back to the hotel rather than catch a taxi. The rain had stopped and the light bouncing off the wet pavement almost made the city seem to glow.

"I can see how easy it would have been for the two of them to have a spell cast on them," Tony continued their conversation from earlier. "The air is intoxicating."

"Only if you allow it," Ziva replied, gazing at the stars that had managed to peek through.

"You are telling me that you don't feel anything walking around the streets of Paris," Tony said, stopping and turning to look at Ziva. "You can't tell me that all the times you have been here, you never once felt different here.

"I have only been here on assignment, Tony," Ziva explained, looking anywhere but into her partner's eyes.

"It didn't stop them," Tony pointed out.

"Yet something came between them," Ziva explained.

"That must have been when Boss came up with Rule #12," Tony decided.

"It is a good rule, Tony," Ziva said. "Nothing good comes out of dating a co-worker."

"There's always a first time," Tony shrugged and began to walk down the sidewalk again.

The Hotel Room

Tony sat down on the edge of the bed and watched as Ziva sat on the edge of the couch, using the coffee table to lay the pieces of her gun on while she cleaned it. It amazed him how delicately Ziva treated her weapon. She remembered the last time they were forced to share a room. She had the same concentration even then.

"Think there'll be trouble?" Tony asked solemnly.

"I do not know," she admitted. "Something does not feel right."

Tony knew well enough to trust any gut feelings they might have throughout the years. "Just once I'd like to have an easy assignment," Tony groaned.

"I am sure nothing will happen," Ziva assured him. "It's almost midnight, we should get some rest."

"I'll take the couch," Tony offered as Ziva put her cleaned pistol into its pouch.

"Then I will have to listen to you complain about your back the whole flight back," Ziva retorted.

Tony raised his hands in defeat, "Okay, fine. You can have the couch."

Tony lay in the queen sized bed thirty minutes later fully awake, listening to the city noise outside. He could tell by the lack of snoring from the couch that Ziva too was wide awake.

"I hate time change," Tony groaned, shifting yet again.

"You learn to sleep any chance you can," Ziva mumbled, but she was struggling to sleep as well. The time difference really did not affect her. It was the fact that Tony was lying in a bed not five feet from her.

"Do you think Gibbs was always the hardass he is?" Tony wandered aloud, staring at the dark ceiling. Ziva chose not to reply, sensing that Tony had more to say. "At some point he had to have had some emotion, or he wouldn't have made a rule about dating a co-worker."

"He made the rules for a reason," Ziva sighed staring into the darkness.

Silence enveloped the room for a moment before Tony said, "I think he grew softer with Jenny around," Adding, "Actually, he changed after Kate," before trailing off. "I don't think he ever forgave himself."

"It was not his fault," Ziva said. "It was not your fault either, Tony," she added sensing what he was thinking.

"You weren't there," Tony pointed out, his voice even.

"No, I was not, but I heard what my brother said to Gibbs the night he died," Ziva replied, sitting up on the couch and Tony followed suit on the bed. "He wanted your team to feel guilty. That was the one thing Ari excelled at. He could turn anything around and make it look different."

Tony huffed, he remembered vividly how no one seemed to believe Gibbs and he about Ari, until it was almost too late. "No use thinking back to things you can't change," he said. The two laid back down on the bed and looked at the shadows dancing on the ceiling. This was not how he imagined Paris would be. Never once did he expect to find himself forced to share a tension-filled room with Ziva, reliving the past. They had too many ghosts in their past that they had yet to get over. He did not know what it would take to erase the full impact of these ghosts—they would never fully disappear—but something would have to change soon. After a little, Tony drifted off to sleep.

An hour later, Tony jerked awake. Something had woke him up, but he was not sure what it was. Lying silently in the bed, Tony listened for the sound again. He heard a siren off in the distance, music drifting through the streets from some club, then he heard the sound that had awakened him. It was soft, barely noticeable, yet Tony heard it clearly. It was a sound he was not used to coming from Ziva's sleeping form. Tony slipped out of the bed and tip-toed towards the couch where Ziva lay. In the dark he could just make out her slender form curled almost in a ball with her head buried in the crook of the couch.

Ziva's body trembled as her silent sobs shook her body. For a moment Tony stood there, his heart breaking at the sight in front of him. Not caring that he might lose a hand, Tony tenderly reached out to lay a hand on Ziva's shoulders. Mentally wincing as he touched her, Tony was surprised to find Ziva seemingly calming down at his touch. Crouching down in front of the couch, Tony whispered, "Ziva," softly attempting to wake her up from the fitful rest she was in.

"No, please," she begged, sobbing even more.

"Ziva, honey, wake up," Tony said, shaking her just a bit more. He did not like watching her this way. When she still would not wake up, Tony stood up, picked the sobbing form off the couch and slid behind her, holding her tight against him. At first she fought against him, but soon he felt her relax against him. The whole time Tony whispered anything soothing he could think of, his heart hurting for the woman who was currently crying against his chest. As her breathing evened out, Tony realized she had fallen back to sleep. He decided not to try to move, for risk of waking her up. It was not long before he drifted off as well.

Ziva was vaguely aware of the arm holding her tight against a warm body. Confused, she opened her eyes to find that the arm and body belonged to Tony. Trying to recall how they needed up this way, Ziva remembered the all too real dream she'd just had. It was the same dream she'd had since Somalia.

"You okay?" she heard Tony's groggy voice ask. He must have felt her wake up, she thought.

All Ziva did was nod her head before laying it back down on his chest.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked and Ziva mentally sighed, she'd known he was going to ask.

"No," she said, praying he would leave it there.

"How often do you have nightmares like that?" Tony asked the worry evident in his voice.

"Nightmare," Ziva corrected, lifting her head up to look into his eyes. "Singular. Just one, and every night since Somalia," she explained. "I dream that I am back in Salim's camp. He is standing there laughing at how the rescue attempt had been stopped. He drags me into this room and all I see is…" her voice wavered, she took a deep breath, "all I see is you lying in a puddle of blood," she finished. "Every time it seems so real."

"It's not, Zee-vah," Tony assured her, wiping away the tears that ran down her cheek. "We made that son of a bitch pay for hurting her. I promise nothing like that will ever happen to you again," he swore.

"You cannot promise that," Ziva pointed out.

"I can promise that I will damn well try," Tony told her. "That's what partners do.

Ziva sighed frustrated and slipped out of Tony's arms and off the couch. Walking across the room to the window, she asked, "Why did you come after me? After what I did to you, you risked your life to save me," looking out at the city.

Tony made his way over to her, keeping his distance at the same time. "Same reason I told you then," he answered. Both remembered his struggled, 'Couldn't live without you, I guess.'

"You had no idea I was alive," Ziva turned towards him.

"My gut told me you were," Tony admitted. "If I was wrong, I planned on doing my best to kill the bastard that was responsible."

"Why?" Ziva asked her eyes begging for an answer. "I threatened to kill you. I blamed you for murdering Rivkin out of jealousy. Never once did I try to see things through your point of view."

"I understood what you were going through," Tony replied. "A lot happened around then, and you needed something to take it out on. I let it be me."

Ziva stared at Tony for a while, trying to comprehend what he was telling her. She'd realized not long after she had stayed behind in Israel that everything she'd said to Tony had been wrong. But there was nothing she could do about it. Back then, a part of her knew that she would never have a chance to see him, while a part of her held out hope that one day she would see the team again.

"How about we make a deal," Tony spoke up. "How about agree to erase the slate and start over, again?" he offered.

"On one condition," Ziva said. "No more dating arms dealer daughters or secret operations."

"No more Mossad boyfriends," Tony added before sticking his hand out to seal the deal. "Agreed?" he asked, waiting for her to take his hand.

"Agreed," Ziva said, shaking his hand.

"Now, what do you say we go back to sleep," Tony suggested, stifling a yawn. "I want to get up early tomorrow and catch a few sights before we have to go back to work." Ziva nodded and began walking back towards the couch where she'd been sleeping. "You know, this bed is big enough for the two of us to sleep in and never know the other was there," Tony rambled a bit nervously.

"Okay," Ziva yawned, slipping under the covers of the bed.

The Next Morning

The sunrise crept through the blinds covering the window and fell onto the two figures lying in the center of the queen-sized bed. The man had one arm holding the slender form next to him against his side, her head using his chest as a pillow, while their hands were intertwined together.

Tony found himself breaking through the covers of sleep, groaning at the bright light that shown right in his eyes. It was too early, he thought to himself. Attempting to stretch, Tony realized there was a weight on top of his chest that refused to let him move easily. Thinking back, he remembered the talk he and Ziva had had that night. Opening his eyes, Tony stared down at the sleeping Israeli. She looked peaceful for the first time in a very long time, he thought to himself. He hoped their conversation last night would be the beginning of a better relationship for the two. A part of him hope that maybe eventually it would lead to something more, but for now all he wanted was to have the friendship back that they had enjoyed so long ago before all the fiascos that tore them apart.

Managing to slip out from under Ziva without waking her, Tony proceeded to get dressed. He wanted to walk around Paris and see the sights that he'd longed to see the entire trip. A part of him wanted to wake Ziva so she could join him, but he decided that she needed rest more than she needed sightseeing. Grabbing a pen and a piece of paper, Tony wrote a note telling Ziva where he'd gone, and laid it on the bed next to her before quietly leaving the room.


End file.
